


Gobbling at the Games

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark has a bit of a good time</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gobbling at the Games

It has been a highly satisfying end to the Games, despite that last ruckus in the longhouse when Arthur’s men roughed up his. Mark smiles to himself complacently as he returns from the privy in the moonlight. A few more cups of mead, a few more slices of Lenni’s succulent roast boar – and he will be ready to hit the sheepskins.

Some comely female company to cuddle amidst his fleeces would have been nice – but his triumph in the wrestling will have to suffice for compensation. As he rounds the corner of the longhouse, Mark spies Arthur and Rowena slipping off hand-in-hand into the darkness. He snorts to himself in derision. Typical Arthur. No untoward nooky while the Princess of the Jutes and her father are here. Mustn’t upset the balance of our defences by being caught with our hand in the honey pot – or more precisely Kai’s breeches…….

Although he has had a funny feeling recently that Rowena is already aware of the……..state of Arthur’s birds and bees and that some sort of compromise has been reached. No doubt his cousin will marry her one of these days, without any need for the honey pot’s lid to be secured. Well, Arthur is welcome to her – all viper’s venom and basilisk eyes as she is. The memory of Rowena’s disdain at the water trough a few days ago still smarts.

Truth be told, Mark muses, he had been relieved the moment after Arthur booted him into the mud on his supposed wedding day. Rowena’s lands are rich and tempting – certainly her dowry will make Arthur more powerful than any Cornish chieftain when they are married. But Rowena is not enough meat and ale for him – even if he never got any further than kissing her cheek. That cropped hair and propensity for breeches – Mark prefers a woman of more substance, with long lustrous tresses that can tickle a man’s….fancy, pale, glistening, voluptuous, throbbing breasts, pendant, pink-tipped, heavy nipples……….

A large mound of straw piled beside the longhouse suddenly rustles, making Mark jump in annoyed fright. Looking down he catches a quick glance of tousled golden hair and gleaming white teeth, hears a familiar throaty female giggle. Bloody Kai and Maeven who had travelled to Arthur’s village as part of Cornwall’s delegation.

He has always suspected that she fancied the handsome blonde Saxon since Kai and Arthur came to his encampment a few years ago to deal with Rolf the Preacher. All that playing in a pile like lusty pups while he and the other men were forced to consume nauseating green slop masquerading as herb stew. No wonder Maeven had beseeched to come, pleading her superior cooking skills and the need to visit her uncle’s second cousin’s nephew’s widow Olwen. Her half-witted husband had seen no harm – more fool him. (That other curly-haired freak of a woman Gladwen, had also begged to be included – but he didn’t want Cornwall to become a laughingstock byword for imbecility. Maeven is at least quite winsome.) Now, she and Kai run laughing into the shadows behind the stables.

Well, one thing he is fairly certain of, Mark thinks, grinning, : Rowena and Maeven will soon be squealing or he isn’t the most powerful king in the west. Once, as he entered his bath house, he caught a glimpse of Kai and Arthur’s one-eyed snakes…….. They were….. somewhat generous…… alright truthfully, to call a spear a spear, they were monsters. Kai’s purple-headed soldier dwelling in a tangle of thick flaxen spirals, Arthur’s breeches-trout leaping from his shiny sable pelt. But he had never been really envious – they did not call him the mighty Cornish stallion for nothing….

And something else he is sure about – Arthur and Kai still obviously think that they have him foxed – Kai with his long-standing reputation for wenching, Arthur with his oh-so-proper courtship of Yorath’s daughter. Well, no-one can pull the sheepskin over Mark of Cornwall’s shrewd brown eyes. If they’re not really dementedly in love and ploughing each other through the back field, then he is…………..

seriously startled. Suddenly appearing out of the night is a large sharp-eyed woman with a curtain of thick dark hair. Mark knows vaguely who she is - the village nuisance. Kai and Arthur are often making jests at her expense. What the devil is her name? Gabtit? Gobnit? Gimmit? No, but something similar and similarly ludicrous…….. that’s it - Gobnat!

Smiling sensuously, Gobnat sidles toward him. She preens and swings her ample hips in a slow circular motion. “So, my lord of Cornwall, I saw your great victory this afternoon in the wrestling.” Mark narrows his eyes. Is this some sort of an invitation? More importantly, if it is will he……. accept? He looks at her more closely. Not pretty by any leap of the imagination. A furrowed brow as if she frowns too often. Rather a heifer in shape. Clad in something shapeless that he would use for slopping up mead from the rushes. But………… as far as he can judge, displaying a pair of ripe swelling twin orbs that might well be warm and honey soft to touch, tantalizing to squeeze, lush to fondle……….

Gobnat licks her fleshy lips. “You were magnificent today. All that grunting and grabbing and bare sweaty ……. skin.” She places a large suety hand on his arm. “My husband is away hunting. And my mother is looking after my children tonight so I can…….. feast. Perhaps you would like to come and share the…….banquet in my hut.” Her brown eyes glisten with lascivious intent, her rotund thighs press against his with wanton promise, the suety hand moves steadily downwards kneading and stroking………..

They have no chance of reaching Gobnat’s hut – in fact they are lucky to gain the sanctuary of the straw recently vacated by Kai and Maeven. Within a few heartbeats, Mark has discarded his leathers and Gobnat her roughhewn shift. It is an exotic re-enactment of his splendid wrestling conquest – all crushing and cupping, scooping and taunting, capturing and circling……….

Her breasts are indeed plump - burgeoning, naked, creamy mounds of delight. She chuckles as he tests the weight of them, one in each calloused palm – then starts to cheep like a jaunty goldcrest as he licks and moulds …….

Since he was a newly-bearded sixteen- year-old, Mark has been proud to exhibit his swollen bounty to a willing passionate woman – and twice as gratified if her appetites encompass blowing the horn. ( In later years, he will learn to his eternal gratitude what Kai already knows – that no-one can gobble gobble quite like Eithna, who otherwise bears not the slightest resemblance to an avid turkey…….)

But, Gobnat too will always retain a special place in his erotic memories. For the enthusiastic way she addresses the senate, her full-fledged slurping of the bishop….. Arthur constantly maintains that the woman’s bewailing mouth is more expansive than the estuary at low tide – and now Mark magically discovers that his cousin is absolutely, irrefutably, correct……

Dawn is streaking the salmon-coloured sky when Mark stirs the next morning. He has fallen asleep in the straw, equally shrouded by Gobnat’s substantial girth and his woollen cloak. Beside him she snores on softly, a smile of contented gratification on her usually scowling countenance. Mark feels replete and utterly fulfilled – his wrestling championship has not been his only memorable victory during this visit…….

Slowly he becomes aware that someone is standing very near him, their boots actually planted almost against his ear. Heart thumping Mark opens one beady brown eye…….and is immediately doused in horror. To see Arthur above him would have been perhaps bearable………. Kai’s amused smile and teasing could have been borne eventually……… but, instead, looking down on him and Gobnat, wearing the widest, most mocking grin Mark has ever seen,is big fat Yorath himself………..


End file.
